


I Know

by turn_turn_turn



Series: May The Fluff Be With You [2]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: F/M, Friendship, M/M, and Kissing Anxiety, from the records of: Poe Dameron Is Not Smooth, missing scene from TFA, or: my childhood OTP makes me cry still, with a side of Old Marrieds Still In Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2019-02-13 14:32:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12986085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turn_turn_turn/pseuds/turn_turn_turn
Summary: Poe lingers in the command room after the pilots' meeting breaks up.





	I Know

**Author's Note:**

> OK so as far as timing I see this scene as fitting into TFA right after the Resistance has their big 'let's blow up the starkiller base and save Rey' plan meeting on D'Qar and right before they enact said plan (there had to have been at least like a half hour of prep work before they all took off, right?? and by 'prep work' I mean declarations of love) 
> 
> My schedule got crazy busy so I haven't been able to keep up with all the Poe/Finn tidbits I want to write but I'm feeling a lot of TLJ Stress in this Chilis tonight and this fluff got squeezed out as a result. 
> 
> Also I miss Han. And Carrie. Frick.

Poe lingers in the command room after the pilots' meeting breaks up, poking listlessly at the control panel and staring at the Starkiller schematics in such a way that Leia can tell he isn’t really seeing them. 

Leia watches him out of the corner of her eye as she accepts a cup of stim tea from Lef, trying to parse out what might be bothering him. It could be the dangerous prospect of the execution of their current plan, but she doubts it. Poe is a born fighter; he made peace with his fear long ago. 

The two of them are alone in the room now, Leia sipping her tea slowly and Poe now spinning around and around in lazy, distracted circles in one of the hovering stools, the toes of his boots dragging on the floor. 

Leia regards him for a minute longer before deciding that they should probably just get to it already – the pre-mission maintenance to the X-wings should be completed in less than an hour. 

"Poe?"

Poe continues rotating, but drags one foot more deliberately to slow his speed, looking up at her with still-glazed eyes. "Hmmm?" he mumbles. 

"Is there something you'd like to talk about?" Leia prompts. 

He swivels to a stop, slouched over in the seat. It takes him a few beats before he says, haltingly, "So how long after someone defects from a fascist state, abandoning the only life they've ever known, and selflessly joins the fight for good, before it's ah, polite to ask them out, do you think?" 

"Hmmm," Leia says, hiding a smile behind the rim of her cup as she takes a sip. 

She could dismiss him before he continues, remind him that she and he both have more pressing things to do than discuss his burgeoning infatuation with the hero of the hour. She  _could_  do that – but she won't. 

She promised herself she would never become the type of leader who loses sight of the bigger picture, that it isn't just the fight, it's what they're fighting  _for_ : these little human moments, the parts of themselves that thrive not because of war, but regardless of it. Her role as a general isn't merely to keep her people alive, but to keep them  _living_. She must be strong, but not hardened. 

Looking at Poe, seeing the evidence of his bursting, feeling heart written all over his face, she is glad to have retained the softness of her own; it's what keeps her living, too. 

Poe, who hadn't noticed her hedging, continues on, "Does it help if  _you_ sort of helped them in their initial escape? Not that the person would  _owe you_  for it or anything, nothing like that – after all it was a very mutual escape-assist situation – it's just that, that sort of high stakes scenario sort of accelerates the ah, intimacy between two people, don't you think? Or does that add even more pressure to the prospect of um, dating-type proposals - 'cause the last thing I want to do is add more pressure to -"

" _Poe,_ " Leia interrupts.  

"Yes?"

"If this is you trying to tell me you've got a crush on Finn you can save your breath – I knew the second you started gushing about his 'brave feat of - '" 

"It was brave!"

"I know it was, I just wasn't sure what his 'beautiful brown eyes' had to do with helping pilot a TIE fighter." 

"I did  _not_  say that. Though it would have been accurate if I had." Poe's eyes go a little glazed again. 

"Poe?"

"Hmm?"

Leia can feel the corner of her mouth quirking up. "Didn't you two just meet?" 

"No – well, yeah, a little – collectively we've probably spent three hours together," he admits. 

She raises an eyebrow. 

Poe goes a little red. "Well it's been ah, a very good three hours."

Leia smiles at him and then nods. "And in another three hours you'll both be risking your lives in an admittedly perilous operation." 

Poe nods back. "You can see why I'm keen on asking now. The window of opportunity is definitely shrinking." 

"I'd say it's not so much a window as a porthole."

"Pretty much. I just. He's obviously stressed about his friend getting kidnapped – totally understandable, don't get me wrong – so how insensitive is it of me to bring something like this up? Seems sort of trivial in relation to all the 'good versus evil' stuff going on. Then again in a few hours we'll probably both be  _dead,_  at which point it will be really inconvenient to tell him anything at all, trivial or not -"

"Poe -" 

"And really, when facing almost-certain death at the hands of a bunch of megalomaniacal, star-sucking fascists, is something like this really all that frivolous?" Poe's voice has gone up a register and he's started pacing the room in frantic, jerking strides. "I mean I know it's just a  _crush_ , but in times like these don't we have to capitalize on the positive things while we can? And I'm not saying that my feelings will necessarily be a guaranteed good thing in his eyes – he might be all, 'so what, Poe, I have to go fight literal evil now' - but it's always nice to hear that somebody likes you, right? Right? Or, fuck, am I just being a presumptuous, insensitive - " 

" _Poe_." 

"But this might be my last chance to -"

"Poe!" 

He stops pacing and turns to her, blinking. "Yes?"

"Just go talk to him, for Potentium-sakes," she implores him, no longer stifling herself from rolling her eyes. 

"You think?"

"Yes, I do. Besides, I'm fairly positive he already knows."

Poe blinks some more. "He does?"

"You haven't exactly been  _subtle_ ," she points out, gesturing at him with her now empty cup. "It's those giant Porg eyes of yours, they give you away."

He drops down onto the stool again, looking a little deflated. "Well that's... embarrassing, to be honest. Do you think he -" 

"Yes." 

"Really?"

"He has been wearing your jacket around here like he owns it," she says. 

Poe blushes a deep pink. "He – he does. I gave it to him." 

She nods again. "And he accepted it. Listen, kid, the only way to know for sure is to ask." 

"Okay," he mumbles, eyes on his boots. "Okay," he says again, this time a little louder and with a bit more determination behind it. 

"Okay," she mimics, smiling at him. 

"Alright, I'm gunna go and, ah. I'm gunna go." He stands and looks at the door, but makes no move toward it. 

"You should," she prompts, wondering if she's going to have to give him a literal push. 

"I'm going. Here I go." He sets his jaw and finally steps into motion, striding purposefully out into the hallway without a backwards glance. 

"I'll expect a post-mission update, Mr. Dameron," she calls after him. 

He lifts a hand in response but doesn't turn around, still moving off in the direction of the equipment bay, his shoulders a bit rigid and the back of his neck red. 

She smirks to herself; she hasn't seen him this nervous in all the time she's known him. 

She asks for another cup of tea when Lef sticks their head back in and sits quietly with the steaming cup in her hand, trying not to let the bubble of fear in her own gut blossom until it can swallow her from the inside. The plan is already in motion, and at there is no alternative in any case. 

She closes her eyes and feels out through the Force. Not far, just within the relative safety of her surroundings. Just D'Qar. She knows what she's doing, hasn't ever been able to stop herself from doing it, even through these last few years of separation -  _e_ _specially_ in these last few years. 

After a few moments she feels him, his presence pinging in her mind like a warm, bright light, vaguely pulsing. In her younger years she used to think that that pulse beat in time with her heart. 

Now she knows it does. 

He's close by, likely with Chewie at the docking center at the edge of the base, readying the Falcon - as much as that old rustbucket can be readied, she figures. 

She sits for a while like that, just feeling him there, at the outskirts of her immediate sphere, letting his proximity and the knowledge of it calm her. Not for the first time she wishes he was also sensitive to the strange, clinging web of the Force, that he could tug back on their shared thread. 

Then again, she knows, his awareness could also enable him to hide from her, the way her brother does. The way her son has. 

She cuts the thought off, unwilling to relinquish the controlled quiet of this moment just yet.  She sits still, mind open and eyes closed, and after a few minutes she feels his bright light getting closer and closer, until the door slides open along its track and he is there in the room. 

She opens her eyes after a beat; Han is standing by the door, watching her with his hands on his hips and the beginnings of a smile touching the corner of his mouth. 

She lets the making of a smirk touch her own before taking another sip of her tea. 

Han sits down on the stool that Poe had vacated, propping his feet up on a control panel and crossing his arms over his chest. They sit quietly, not talking, not-quite-smiling – just looking. 

"That lemon of yours up and running yet?" she asks, breaking the quiet. 

He shoots her a true grin, the one she knows like the back of her own hand. "My ship is fine, thank you." He shrugs. "It could use about twenty more minutes – or  _years_  – of work, but it'll be ready to go." 

"Good." 

They relapse back into comfortable silence, and a handful of minutes later the door opens and Poe strides back in, looking like someone hit him over the head with the blunt end of a stun-stave; eyes glazed and with all the tension gone from his shoulders. 

"So? Did you tell him?" Leia addresses Poe. Then, turning back to Han, says, in a mock-whisper, "Poe here has a crush on our gallant hero." 

"Tell me something half the galaxy doesn't already know," Han mumbles back. 

"Yes," Poe responds to her, still looking dazed. "Yes, I told him." 

"And?" she asks. 

"And he said he already knew." 

Han snorts. "I hope he gave you a better answer after that," he says, obviously talking to Poe, though his eyes are on Leia's face. 

She smirks at him, her stomach clenching. 

"We, um, didn't do much ah, talking from that point on," Poe replies haltingly, that brilliant blush staining his cheeks once more. Leia can see that his lips are a little swollen. 

Han snorts again. 

"Well I should – I should go get suited up," Poe stammers, but now he's beaming – his smile bright and irrepressible. 

She mirrors the smile back to him. "Yes, you should. Thank you for the briefing, Pilot. And good luck." 

"Thank you, General," Poe says, his grin softening but still genuine. Leia's chest tightens as he turns away, dashing back out into the hall. 

She sets her cup down and stands. "You should finish getting ready yourself," she tells Han, not looking at him. 

"I'm as ready as I'll ever be," he responds, voice low and gruff. "You and I both know this is the only outfit I own." 

She shoots him a grin and he stands, stepping closer. She leans forward, bracing both arms against the edge of the table, unable now to look away from his face. 

"Han." She gives a hard tug on the connection strung between them, wishing again that he could feel it. 

Maybe he does.

He smiles at her, knowing and familiar – the smile that she simultaneously wants to slap off his face and to feel against her own lips. 

"I - " Han starts. 

She darts a hand out, picking up a discarded blaster and pointing it toward the crotch of Han's horrible, old pants. "Say it and I'll make sure you don't say anything  _else_  for quite some time." 

"I was going to say 'I love you, too.'" He smirks at her, unflinching. 

She rolls her eyes and drops the blaster back on the table. "Still as presumptuous as ever, I see."

"Couldn't change too much while I was gone and risk you not recognizing me when I got back." He smiles and shrugs. "I was always going to come back," he adds, voice gone soft and low. 

"I know," she says. 

She looks at him, the moment stretching. One beat, then another. 

The quiet breaks as the control panel beeps and a tinny voice echoes from the speaker box over their heads. "Pilots standing by, General Organa. Ready at your call." 

"It's time," she whispers as the echo does away. 

They turn toward the door in unison and make their way toward the docking center, walking quickly, shoulder to shoulder. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! <3 
> 
> Maybe more Finn/Poe ficlets soon!!! Unless TLJ is a Space-Nazi-'redeeming'-Finn-sidelining-Luke-ruining disaster and I break up with the Star Wars franchise for good. FRICK, YOU GUYS, I"M SO NERVOUS. 
> 
>  
> 
> <3<3<3


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